A Little Brighter
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Just a little Mondler story, set during season five. Can tie in with The World Will Follow, but doesn't have to.


I'm in a relationship. With _Monica_. Monica and I are in a relationship.

That's what she just told me.

How the hell am I in a relationship with Monica Geller?

And why am I not bothered by it?

I'm not gonna lie, I had a very brief moment of panic. " _Welcome to an adult relationship._ " It didn't hit me until those words fell out of her mouth that this is precisely that—an actual relationship.

I guess I'm a little slow on the uptake. Geez.

Maybe I've just been living in my happy little bubble for the last few months. Maybe I've been trying not to put too much thought into it because living with this from day to day is just easier. Maybe being with Monica is so cool that I haven't really paid much attention to the passage of time, or let it sink in that we've been together for almost four months.

I mean, yeah, I had a microsecond of a moment where the word _relationship_ freaked me out, but it didn't last long. When I consider the alternative—the alternative I'd been sulking about all day—being in a relationship is a far better fate.

I really thought it was over with Monica. I thought that one stupid fight was enough to end us, and why shouldn't I? I had a stupid fight with Kathy and she ran off and boinked her costar. I had a stupid fight with Janice, and she wound up back with her husband. Monica's gotten into dumb fights with the guys she's been with and we've never heard from them again. A fight always seems to equal the end of the affair.

Then again, I've never been with anyone that I've really wanted to fight for, not like with Monica.

That's not to say that I didn't try to fight for the women I've been with in the past, or that I haven't been stupid, insanely depressed when those relationships ended, but with Monica, it's different. Everything with her has been different. Maybe a lot of it is has to do with the fact that we've known each other for a million years and that she's one of the best friends I've ever had. There's a lot more at stake with her than with anyone else.

And perhaps that's why I haven't let myself think too deeply about what being with Monica means. Or, more precisely, what being _without_ her would mean.

It's not good.

So, having her tell me that we're actually in a relationship was a good thing. It got my head out of my ass, at least a little. But really, what else could this have been? We're together almost constantly, even more so than before we hooked up in London. I really, genuinely like sleeping next to her at night. Just kissing her is so much fun, I think I could do it forever. Hell, I'm even the one that suggested we go away for the weekend. Yes, it ended in that horrible fight, but it was still something I've never done with someone. Not to mention this need for her. This terrible, aching, _need_.

I don't even know how to process this part of being with Monica.

I've never ached for another human being the way I ache for Monica. There's an actual, physical pain somewhere deep in my chest that's been there since sometime right after we first slept together. I remember it tingling a little bit right after we woke up and she bolted, but after we attempted, and failed, so many times to sleep together before making it home, there were moments when I thought I would actually double in half because I wanted her so badly. That tingle subsided just a little when we finally managed to have sex again, but it transformed into a different pain altogether.

It's horrible. Even going a few hours without her feels like I'm breaking apart. I _need_ her. I actually truly need her.

God, and the sex. The sex is out of this world. It's a huge part of the ache I feel for her. I've always liked sex—I'm a guy, and there aren't many guys I know of who _don't_ like sex—but it's always been one of those things that's great in theory, but not as much in practice. Not to say that I haven't thoroughly enjoyed the sex in the past, but it's brought its own brand of anxiety. Sharing a wall with an Italian stallion roommate hasn't helped my confidence in that arena, either. Knowing he can illicit those sorts of noises from a woman while I could barely get an audible moan…doesn't do much for the old ego. Even with Kathy, it wasn't great until I got that lesson about the erogenous zones from Monica.

And there she is again. It all leads back to Monica. Without me realizing it at the time, mostly because it wasn't even a remote possibility and I was thoroughly ensconced in Kathy, Monica gave me the combination to orgasms. Not just any orgasm, either— _hers_.

I've not let that knowledge go to waste.

But not matter how often we have sex, I just want more. The only time I feel right lately is when we're together, and if we're naked at the same time, I really do start to feel complete. It's the only time the ache goes away. Part of me thinks that has to be stupid—I'm just some horny guy who can't get enough of his girlfriend.

Well, yeah, that's part of it, I'm sure, but that's definitely not all of it. It's more than that. I've found someone that I really _want_ to do all those things with. I actually want to pleasure her for hours at a time because it makes me feel better. It makes me feel alive. It makes the damn ache stop, at least for a little while.

For the first time, my own fulfillment isn't a priority. It's completely secondary. I want her to be so satisfied that she can't move. I want her legs shaking because an orgasm was out of this world. I want her making sounds that almost don't sound human. And then I want to do it to her all over again.

It's unreal.

I've just never wanted anyone the way I want her. It's scary at times. I feel like I shouldn't yearn for someone the way I do for her. I feel like I shouldn't have such old-fashioned notions about her, but for some reason, the Victorian words seem to describe the things I feel—ache, twinge, yearn. It's ridiculous but it's also true.

She does things to me, though—things I never imagined another person could make me feel. She makes me want to do things that I'd never do with another person. I had sex with her in a closet at Central Perk, for crying out loud. _Twice_. I've never done that with someone else. Truthfully, that whole incident with Susie Moss stealing my clothes in a public restroom kind of cured me of wanting to have sex in public. I prefer to be humiliated in private, thank you very much.

But that _need_. That god damn, aching, all-consuming _need_. The need to have her in any way I can as often as possible. I would hate it if I didn't love it. She makes it so easy, even when it's tough. Yeah, we had a fight, but it could have been much worse. She could have let me walk away and end things like the idiot that I am. But she broke everything down into bite-sized pieces so that I could understand what was actually going on with us. Not that long ago, after I was so busy basking in the glow of knowing that I was the best she's ever had (and, honestly, I'll be basking in that one for a long, _long_ , time), she could have made life hell for me. She could have withheld sex indefinitely, if she'd really wanted to. But she let me apologize and actually glowed when I told her I was the best because of her.

That is the absolute truth of it, too, and on so many levels. If I'm any good in bed, it's because she took the time to actually explain a woman's body to me. It's because being with her makes so much sense and feels so right. I never expected it, but I honestly can't say that it surprises me. I've been around Monica for so long, she knows everything about me. She's known all of the stupid, intimate, unimportant details for years. We've confided in each other for a long time. I was the only one she confessed to about it being her underwear on the telephone pole, and somehow, she was the only one who knew about my third nipple. I shared a dorm room with her brother for four years and somehow managed to keep that tidbit of information from him, but all it took with Monica was a late night movie marathon and a couple of beers. I don't even remember how the conversation started, just that I wound up telling her, and she would have taken it to her grave if I hadn't blabbed about her underwear.

Part of me really wishes I could figure out what it is about her that draws me in like a moth to a flame. The analytical part of my brain, the part that's so good with numbers and charts and organizing data desperately wants to understand what's going on with us and why I can't get enough of this woman. The rest of me just wants to try to enjoy whatever it is we have. I don't know how long it's going to last, and I want to savor every last drop of our time together. Someday, she'll wake up and realize that being with me is not a good idea and kick me to the curb where I so rightfully deserve to be. But maybe, just maybe, if I play my cards right before then, she _won't_ toss me out. Maybe if I keep doing things that are cute, even after I screw up, she'll want me to stick around for a while. I can only hope, right?

So, I guess we _are_ in a relationship, even if it never occurred to me to think of what we're doing as anything other than sneaking around. The brief flicker of panic over just the word "relationship" was nothing compared to the immense relief of knowing that what we have isn't over. That has to be a good sign. That has to mean some sort of personal growth on my part. I'd like to bask in that revelation, but I can't seem to stop kissing her. Part of me know I should stop—Rachel or any other of our friends could walk in at any moment and I'd have to figure out how to explain why exactly I'm kissing Monica. Again.

But still, I kiss her, and I try to dull the ache inside my chest. Maybe someday, I won't want her as desperately as I do right now.

But I hope that day is _way_ off in the future.

* * *

A/N…don't you love when a line from the show grabs you suddenly and you know you have to do something with it? That's what happened here. "Welcome to an adult relationship." For some reason, that conversation stuck out with me more than usual, and I knew I had to write something. Plus, that whole thing about aching and needing came to me, and I couldn't let it go, so I managed to combine the two. Hopefully, it's not too disjointed (a little disjointed is okay—that was kind of the stream of consciousness effect), but I'm not going to bother rereading this one. Just going to post and hope for the best.

Also, this story got its title from "Accidentally In Love," which, incidentally, is what "The World Will Follow" is from. I thought it might be nice to tie the two together, since they sort of fit, and what better way than to find another lyric?


End file.
